


Bound by Love

by Sam KW (samudee)



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Halloween, Love, M/M, Marcus' goons, Pine Lake adventures, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samudee/pseuds/Sam%20KW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Secret Santa, 2015. </p><p>A vacation at Pine Lake goes all wrong, throwing a wrench into Hutch's plans. </p><p>There's a mention of the use of handcuffs. No hardcore bondage -- I mean... not even soft-core bondage!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bound by Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wightfaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wightfaerie/gifts).



 

**Pine Lake. Halloween, 1980.**

"Bad combination," Starsky muttered.

"What?"

"This…" Starsky paused and waved his hand around. "This is where we got sacrificed to Satan… almost."

"Spirit of Halloween." Hutch was unusually cheerful. "Isn't this _your_ kind of thing?"

"Darkness and spookiness, and spookiness and darkness. Not a single candy shop or a Halloween party nearby," Starsky continued.

"Ahhhh…" Hutch got out of the car, took a deep breath, and stretched his arms over his head. "Not a smell of candy around. Trees and darkness, nature and her wonders."

"Exactly," Starsky grumbled. "I thought you loved me." He carried his bag into the Pine Lake cabin.

The cottage had been cleaned and stocked up with food they'd need, or to be specific, what _Hutch_ thought they'd need and should eat. Hutch had planned a three-day weekend for them to get away from their busy lives. Starsky groaned at the thought of been forced to consume all that health food Hutch could conjure during their stay.

 _Things he'd do for love_ , Starsky sighed. But he didn’t want Hutch to change. Not even a bit! He had fallen in love with the man with all his weird habits, and that's how he wanted Hutch to be. It was fun to grumble and make Hutch mad, besides, Starsky had his own plans. He had snuck the most essential food items for survival into his bag. Two could play this game.

Taking out the little cold pack he’d stashed in the bottom of his duffle, Starsky transferred the salami, hot dogs, sausages and bacon to the refrigerator. He was all set! Hutch could prepare acorn stir-fry with mushroom burgers and make Starsky drink all the tofu cocktails his blond heart desired, but Starsky wouldn't starve anymore.

He rubbed his palms together in a devilish glee for outsmarting Hutch.

***

Hutch brought in all the bags from the car.

Starsky diligently unpacked. He left the fishing gear below the living room window next to the sofa, beer in the refrigerator, and carried their clothing items to the bedroom. A place for everything and everything in its place was something he lived by, even if it was for three days.

Then there was Hutch. He usually left his pants on the floor, towel on the door, underwear all balled up in a corner, and the shirts and tees God knows where. No wonder he ended up wearing Starsky's stuff most of the time. Hutch never could keep track of where he dumped his items.

 _Don't even get me started_ , Starsky muttered as he arranged his and Hutch's clothes in the drawers of the oak dresser. Hutch had packed five shirts, three t-shirts, two denims, two corduroy pants, three khaki shorts, six boxer shorts, seven pairs of socks, and a pair of boots in addition to three pairs of shoes just for three days. Surprisingly, there was no fishing vest in the pile of clothes. Starsky didn't even want to understand the logic behind that. Obviously Hutch was planning a different kind of a fishing expedition.

He and Hutch had left Bay City right after signing off for the day. It was already dark by the time they reached Pine Lake. Starsky wondered what their dinner plans were. He wished they had stopped in town so that he could've picked up a couple of burgers or a pizza at the convenience store.

As the clanging of the pots and pans echoed in little kitchenette, Starsky knew his fate was sealed. "What are we gonna eat tonight?" he called out.

The sounds ceased for a moment.  

 _What was Hutch up to?_ Starsky closed the drawers and hung their shirts and pants in the closet.

"Trick or treat, boy?" Hutch caught Starsky by surprise, pulling him into a bear-hug from behind.

Starsky leaned against Hutch, sighing. He loved the feel of Hutch's arms around him. "You ain't gonna let me finish unpackin'?" Starsky's skin prickled as Hutch's teeth grazed along his ear lobe.

"I can help you with that." Hutch pressed his lips behind Starsky's ear and pushed Starsky's jacket off his shoulders.

"That's called undressing." Starsky couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice and his pants were getting tighter by the second. Hutch's deep-husky voice was Starsky's biggest turn on. "A little more of that and my jeans won’t move an inch."

"I have plans for you, partner."

"As long as it includes cooking something that I can eat," said Starsky.

"What a romantic!" Hutch sneered. "I'll treat you a lesson for trying to get me out of my mood," he said roughly. "Or maybe you need a glass of goat's milk with a double dose of vitamin E."

"Don't you dare," Starsky growled.

"No goats-- just the two of us." Hutch gently pulled Starsky's head to the side, exposing his neck and trailing light kisses from ear to shoulder. He rubbed his palms over Starsky's chest and meddled with the buttons, taking time to unbutton them. "After I've had my way with you—" Hutch pushed the shirt off Starsky's shoulders.

Starsky arched backwards, wriggling out of the shirt. "I wouldn't know what hit me that-," he shivered as a cold breeze swept over his exposed skin raising goosebumps. "Orange juice, root beer and goat's milk will all taste the same. And you better—" Starsky gasped as Hutch sucked on his neck. "Finish what you started." He would have to walk around with a huge purple blotch on his neck, but it was worth it.

"You trust me?" Hutch asked, pushing Starsky's arms in front and making him clasp them together.

"Uh huh." Starsky wanted Hutch to continue without interruptions. Discussing or confirming what they knew about each other was a total of waste of time.

Hutch dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of Starsky, looking doubtful. "Are you sure of this, Starsk? I still can't say whether you like this idea or not."

"You thinkin' of the first time?"

"There was never a first time." Hutch sighed. "I screwed up."

"'Bout time you got your head together." Starsky chuckled. "Thinkin' too much will get you nowhere."

The first time Hutch used the cuffs on Starsky was during their vacation to San Francisco. Hutch purchased the handcuffs at the Playtime Boutique on Polk Street. Starsky hadn’t known about the metal bracelets until Hutch surprised him by cuffing him to the bed at the hotel. It had been unexpected and caught Starsky for a loop. He hadn’t been sure whether he liked being restrained.

Sensing Starsky's hesitation, Hutch had unlocked the cuffs and thrown them on the floor. He had not wanted to use the handcuffs during the rest of their San Francisco vacation.

Starsky knew he had to take the initiative. Clearly, Hutch loved the idea of being in control. _Right?_   Why else would he buy the damn things?

Once they got back to Bay city after their vacation from San Francisco, Starsky brought up the subject a couple of times, asking when they were going to experiment with the cuffs, but Hutch had always had an excuse.

First he told Starsky that he couldn't find them.

After Starsky found the handcuffs buried in a drawer while looking for a bottle opener, Hutch said that he had lost the key and therefore the clamps were unusable.

Starsky pointed out that they were _key-less cuffs_ and that there _never_ were any keys to begin with. Hutch reminded Starsky that they had just finished a twelve-hour stakeout; he was too tired for sex. That had never happened before. Hutch was never tired for sex, but Starsky let him get away with it. Two days later, the cuffs were _lost_ , again.

Apparently, Hutch had finally decided to give the handcuffs a try for the trip to Pine Lake on Halloween.

"So where did you find the cuffs?" Starsky asked. "Last time I checked you had lost 'em,"

"I --err—I didn't really lose them. But you knew that, anyway. Right?"

Starsky grinned.

_***_

 

Starsky had reassured Hutch a thousand times that he was game with the whole thing, but Hutch still wasn't sure. Besides… it wasn't really about controlling or confining Starsky, but Hutch couldn't bring himself to tell Starsky that.

"I wasn't trying to _dominate_ you, Starsk."

"I know that. And I told ya that I'm all right with it," said Starsky. "Where did you get this idea from, anyway?"

"From _you_ —after the Cooper case. You were constantly joking about leather clothing and stuff after that."

They’d been assigned to investigate a death of a man, Frank Cooper, who had allegedly suffered a heart attack at a sex club that specialized in rough sex and bondage. Their investigation revealed that the death had nothing to do with his techniques of gaining sexual gratification. The heart attack had been induced by a lethal dose of calcium chloride when his wife gave him his daily insulin dose injection. She had never been able to put up with his deviant life style.

_"I bet those tight black leather pants will look good on you," Starsky had said once when they were at Wilson's Leather, shopping for a wallet. He’d pulled out a leather belt and asked, "Don't you think this would be the thing for me?"_

_Hutch had been tongue-tied, not sure whether Starsky was joking or not._

_"You know you're blushing, right?" Starsky had whispered in his ear at the cash desk._

_The idea of being loved while restrained or totally possessed by Starsky had excited Hutch beyond words, but he was unable to voice his thoughts._

"Of course I did," said Starsky, watching Hutch securing the cuffs around his wrists. " _Leather_ is my kind'a thing. And I've wanted to get you interested in a pair of black leather pants, 'cos you look good in black."

Starsky had bought a wallet and a leather belt for his own day-to-day use that day. How could have Hutch read the signs wrong? It was all about leather clothing and accessories, which Starsky truly loved. To think of it, Starsky had never actually mentioned anything related to bondage.

Even if Hutch had misread Starsky’s intent, he should _not_ have forgotten the fact that Starsky had to be in control of everything, all the time. Hutch could've kicked himself for not taking that into account. He was such a fool. He shouldn't have used the handcuffs on Starsky, unannounced. Even if what Hutch had in mind was not hardcore bondage, he should've talked with Starsky, discussed about the use of restraints before making decisions by himself. He had a lot to discover and unravel about his partner.

***

 

"Why have you never tried to use somethin' like this on me?" Hutch asked, nervously. He closed the handcuffs around Starsky’s wrists with a click.

"I only have my Smith and Wesson cuffs and no way I'm gonna use them on you, Hutch," Starsky replied. "Besides, it was _your_ idea- remember? So once you've had your way with me—" Starsky wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. He liked the sensation of the tight metal against his wrist bones.

Hutch broke into a shy smile. "You'd want to play this game every day."

"Promises, promises." Starsky rolled his eyes, relieved that Hutch didn't press the issue any further. Starsky couldn't bring himself to even think of _imprisoning_ Hutch. He could remember too many occasions when Hutch was injured.

Hutch was once held captive by Ben Forest's thugs for days. The bruises around Hutch's wrists had been a torturous reminder of the darkness that had consumed him, and that Starsky hadn’t been there when Hutch needed him the most. He hadn’t been able to get to Hutch in time and the damage incurred upon Hutch's body and soul was permanent. Then there was the time Hutch almost lost his fingers when Artie Solkin planted a bomb in the LTD. After Hutch inserted the key to unlock the trunk, the bomb had exploded. Starsky could still recall Diana Harmon stabbing Hutch in the arm which had torn up his muscles. He’d also been shot on the shoulder by the young thief Vivian.

No. Starsky couldn't handcuff Hutch even for pleasure. He wasn't going to add any more marks. Hutch had enough of scars. If Hutch really wanted to be restrained, Starsky would find another way to do so.

"Are we going somewhere with this handcuffing or are you just gonna dream about what you want to do?" asked Starsky, looking down at his cuffed wrists, wiggling them in the confines of the metal bracelets, "and I get to dream on what you're dreamin' about. I'm kinda feeling cold."

" _Goddammit_." Hutch looked around. "We need firewood."

Before Starsky could protest, Hutch was out of the cabin. Why would they need firewood to keep warm when they had each other? The night temperatures during this fall season had been relatively warm. It had not dropped to anything that couldn’t be handled with two hot bodies on fire, but of course, this was Hutch. Either he really wanted to make the cabin cozy and warm, or he had chickened out. His anxiety was getting the better of him.

Wanting to make sure Hutch wasn't suffering from a panic attack, Starsky walked out of the bedroom. He heard a gunshot, accompanied by Hutch's muffled screams, and total silence.

 ** _"Huuuutch!"_** Starsky yelled, dashing towards the cabin’s front door. The burning sensation of fear that spread through Starsky’s gut and heart said that this was no Halloween prank. That shot had not been fired from Hutch’s Colt Magnum, which meant only one thing. _Hutch was hurt!_ The deathly silence added to his sense of dread. _Please be okay, please_ …

Doing weird stuff and getting into trouble was Hutch's MO.

Unidentifiable heavy footsteps approached the cabin, and Starsky froze at the door. He was unarmed, except for the damn cuffs that bound his wrists together. He had to free himself and grab his gun before it was too late. Starsky had never looked at the mechanism to unlock the cuffs, but how hard could it be? These weren’t meant for securing criminals. He noticed the small latch release on either side of the cuffs, and removed the metal restraints.

He ran back to the bedroom to retrieve his gun from the nightstand where he had left it earlier that day. He wasn't even halfway across the living room when the cabin door creaked open and the intruder stepped inside.

Starsky crouched down behind the sofa, wishing this was just a dirty joke Hutch was playing for Halloween. But the gunshot had not been from Hutch's piece, and this was no joke. Starsky couldn’t allow his mind to wonder away from one fact. Hutch was hurt. _Just hurt_ and nothing else. He was alive! He had to be. _What if… what if…?_

"Come out, come out, where ever you are."

Starsky knew that voice; _Marvin Riggs_ , one of Simon Marcus's followers! He’d managed to evade the police for the last nine months.

Without a weapon, Starsky only had the cuffs. They weren't useful at all, unless he could get the chain around Riggs' neck and choke the hell out of him. Staying low, Starsky tried to crawl to the bedroom, but the floorboards under his feet were warped and noisy, and gave away his hiding place.

"I know you are in here, Starsky," Riggs chanted, getting closer and closer to the sofa. "Hands above your head," he said, standing right in front of Starsky and pointing a gun at his head. "Hutchinson has gone into such lengths to serve you on a silver platter." Riggs laughed menacingly.

"If you've harmed so much as a single hair on his body, I swear I'm gonna kill you, Riggs," Starsky snarled as he stood up, barely able to control his rage. He would take his sweet time squeezing the life out of Riggs, knocking his teeth one after the other, and breaking his bones into a million pieces. But… he had to get control of the situation as fast as possible without losing precious time in getting to Hutch.

"Did you think you're invincible, Starsky? Or maybe he did." Riggs flicked his thumb towards somewhere outside. "Don't try anything stupid. I don’t want to kill you. At least not right away."

Riggs had been the most sadistic of the Marcus's followers and had tortured Starsky unmercifully. Death would be a welcome option rather than undergo cruelty at Riggs’ hands.

"You know what I have and you don't?" Riggs asked, coming closer. "Patience. I have waited nine months to get my hands on you."

 _Patience!_ That's what Starsky never had… until this moment. "What do you want, Riggs?" he asked, buying time.

"Oh, you know exactly what I want, Starsky," Riggs said showing his white teeth. "I have everything I need right here. Handcuffs included. Dreams do come true if you wish for them." Riggs mocked. "Now… why don't you to put those cuffs on."

Starsky had to get control of the situation before it was too late. If he could trick Riggs into believing that Starsky had help… Starsky snapped his head at the front door and raised his eye brows in a surprised look. **_"Hutch?"_** he yelled.

Riggs turned around just as Starsky had predicted. Without wasting another second, Starsky threw himself forward, grabbing Riggs’ right wrist in a bruising grip and knocking him off his feet. The gun went off, blowing past Starsky's ear and hitting the painting over the mantel. Riggs grunted in pain as he fell onto the ground, Starsky's weight crashing down his chest. The impact jarred the gun loose from Riggs' hand and it flew across the floor. Starsky rolled over and got to his knees.

The first rule in street fighting, as John Blaine had taught him many years ago, was to finish your opponent as soon as he hits the ground. Starsky curled his left hand into a fist and punched, driving his fist into Riggs' face.

Riggs fought back, kicking and punching at Starsky, hitting him at the jaw and stomach. Starsky dodged most of the blows, whipping his head back and avoiding damage to his face. Riggs nearly paralyzed Starsky's arm with a powerful roundhouse punch on the left shoulder, but Starsky recovered and delivered a huge uppercut under his chin with everything he had, knocking Riggs unconscious.

Starsky hurried back to the bedroom and grabbed his gun and regulation handcuffs. He also picked up his shirt from where Hutch had thrown it earlier. Pulling it over the head and buttoning, he ran back to Riggs.

Starsky rolled Riggs over to his stomach, pulling Riggs' hands behind and cuffing them. He picked up the nylon cords from Hutch's fishing gear and bound Riggs' feet together, immobilizing him. Starsky located Riggs' gun with satisfaction. After checking to make sure the ropes around Riggs were tight and secure, Starsky ran outside to search for Hutch.

He was face down on the ground at the hut where Captain Dobey kept his firewood. Blood streaked the side of his face.

"Hutch?" Starsky knelt beside him. He put two fingers to Hutch's neck, feeling his pulse. It was steady and strong. "Can you hear me, Hutch?" Starsky called softly.

"Starsk," Hutch's voice was weak and raspy. His eyes fluttered open momentarily, and closed back again.

Since there was no telephone at the cottage, and no way to call for an ambulance, Starsky had to drive Hutch to the medical center in Pinewood by himself. He would get Sheriff Tyce to pick up Riggs from the cottage once he got to the town.

"We need to get you to a hospital. You with me?" Starsky touched Hutch's cheek.

"What happened?" Hutch mumbled without opening his eyes. "I want to sleep."

"Not right now, buddy. I need you to stay awake until I get you to the car. Can you do that, _for me_ , Hutch?"

Hutch opened his eyes half-way but seemed unable to hold them open.

Starsky got Hutch to sit up. Then, wrapping Hutch's arm around his shoulder, Starsky helped him to his feet. Starsky half-dragged, half-carried Hutch to the car and strapped him in.

Hutch slipped in and out of consciousness as Starsky drove down the windy roads to Pinewood.

**Pinewood Medical Center.**

The nearest hospital was another fifty miles away in David City. Doctor Taylor and his staff of the Health Center in Pinewood tended to Hutch's injuries. Fortunately, the Center was equipped to provide initial evaluation and treatment for a wide range of illnesses and injuries.

Riggs’ shot had grazed the side of Hutch's skull. Luckily, there was no major damage except for the external wound and the bloody mess. Hutch was going to be all right.

"Starsk…" Hutch mumbled as he woke up for the first time after being admitted to the medical facility. His eyelids seemed too heavy to move.

"Take it easy." Starsky cupped a side of Hutch's face in his palm. "You're gonna be all right."

Hutch turned his head around, blinking couple of times and focusing on Starsky's face.

Starsky breathed a sigh of relief. "Hey." He smiled. "Don't try to get up, yet. Let me get the nurse."

Starsky walked up to the door, stuck his head out and called for the woman in white down the hall.

"What happened? Where am I?" Hutch asked looking around. "Starsk?" He called, pulling at his IV.

A tall man with a brown mustache and an older nurse with gray hair and a stethoscope around her neck arrived. Starsky had met them earlier.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, buddy." Starsky rushed up to the bed and put his arm on Hutch's shoulder. "I'm right here."

Hutch held on to Starsky's arm with a death grip.

"Is he always like this?" asked Doctor Taylor, exchanging glances with the nurse, Carol. "Doesn't seem to trust anyone else except you."

"He hates hospitals," Starsky explained. "He'll be cooperative if you allow me to be with him," he suggested, knowing no one would get anywhere with Hutch when he was agitated like this. Besides, Starsky didn’t want to be far away from Hutch when he was hurt. "He's allergic to certain medications, which I mentioned to you earlier. We just don't want to take any risks."

Doctor Taylor nodded. "I can understand that. We want to make out patients comfortable in every way possible. If having you around would help, we can allow that as long as you don't interfere with the procedures," he said, and gestured Starsky to move to the foot of the bed.

Starsky removed his hand from Hutch's grasp. "I'll be over there." Starsky flicked his thumb to the other end of the bed. "If you behave well, we can go home soon," he said, smiling and winking at Hutch, trying to put him at ease.

"Your face is swollen, Starsk. What happened?" Hutch asked peevishly.

"I'm okay. You're the one with a bandage around the head."

"Well, now." Doctor Taylor took his place beside Hutch as Starsky stepped aside. "Can you tell me what your name is?"

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Ken Hutchinson, BCPD," he said and then pointed at Starsky, "and he's Dave Starsky. Can I go home now?"

Starsky sighed. _Yup!_ This was going to be a long night.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Must be your hospital. How the hell do I know?"

Hutch was back to his old self, and Starsky hoped he had all his memories intact as well. But with this attitude, they were getting nowhere.

"Do you remember where you were _before_ you got here?"

"We were on vacation at Dobey's cottage at Pine Lake."

"And then?"

"I went out to get some firewood… and I woke up here. That's all I can remember."

"That’s common with a head injury, it’s called retrograde amnesia—often unable to remember the incidents right before the trauma. You partner may fill in all the blanks for you in due time," said Doctor Taylor. "Nurse Carol will take your blood pressure, other vitals and check your IV. Is that all right with you, Detective Hutchinson?"

"As long as I can go home," Hutch said.

***

 

"When are they going to let us leave?" Hutch asked as Starsky woke him up about an hour after Hutch had fallen asleep. He had to be checked for the possibility of bleeding on the brain or worsening symptoms from the concussion.

"You know the drill." Starsky stretched, sitting on the edge of the chair, and resting his elbows on Hutch's bed. "They ain't gonna just release you with a head injury like this. How are you feelin'? How's the pain?"

"Same as before."

"You feelin' dizzy?" Starsky asked. He had an emesis basin close to him in case Hutch needed to throw up. "You had fallen asleep by the time that sweet nurse Carol was done with you," he said brushing a strand of hair off Hutch's nose.

Hutch groaned. "I'm all right, I swear. My name's Dave Starsky, and you are Hutch. Your partner is Harold Dobey, Thomas Jefferson is our President. And this is 1968."

Starsky's jaw dropped. " _What?_ " he asked, and noticed the smirk on Hutch's face. "Not funny!"

"Serves you right for not busting me out of this place." Hutch chuckled. "Come on, Starsk. You know I'm all right." Hutch attempted to get up and grimaced, his face contorting with pain.

"Stay put. Will you?" Starsky put his hand on Hutch's chest. "And, no. I don’t know whether you are okay or not. You have a pretty nasty gash on the side of your head. There's also a big bump on the other side. Either Riggs hit you with the barrel or you got it when you fell."

" _Riggs?_ Oh, Shit! You mean Marcus'—"

"Yeah. _That_ freak. Riggs's in the lockup under the watchful eye of our good Sheriff Tyce, until Dobey arranges his transfer to BCPD."

Hutch put his fingers on Starsky's face. "What did he do to you, Starsk?"

"You should've seen Riggs." Starsky chuckled, wincing at the pain radiating from his bruised jaw. "I tricked him to thinking you were coming around and got to him before he could carry out his _mission_." Starsky shivered, recalling seeing Hutch lying on the ground, blood pouring from the side of his face. "I thought you were dead. Don't you remember anything?"

"It’s kind of hazy… never saw his face. I think he just snuck up behind me and before I know there was a rope around my neck. I managed to get out of it but then he pulled the gun on me."

"Must've gone off while you were fighting. Good thing it just got you on a side. Doc wants to keep you overnight because you have a concussion—"

"Starsk—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. He has no clue about how thick this blond skull is." Starsky pushed a strand of hair out of Hutch's eyes. He had to keep on touching Hutch and feel his warmth to assure himself that everything was going to be all right. "I can take care of you, but… you've lost too much blood. It's better to stay here for now and we'll go back in the morning. Okay?"

"I seem to get you into trouble—"

"I'm not the one who's all banged up here, now am I?"

"Why didn't we see this coming?" Hutch asked. "We are getting sloppy."

"Riggs had been flyin' under the radar, keepin' tabs on our whereabouts. He has followed us all the way, switchin' cars so that we wouldn’t notice him."

"Oh, my God…" Hutch paled.

"What?"

"I had cuffed you. How did you—"

"Shhh." Starsky pressed his fingers to Hutch's lips. "Keep your voice down, will you?" Starsky looked behind to make sure the doctor or nurse were not around. "I'm here- all intact. No cuffs were harmed during this-- or I should say, no harm was done to this body."

"You know Starsk, we should never come to Pine Lake again. That place is cursed."

"Thought you'd never notice," Starsky laughed.

*******

 

**Bay City. Three weeks later.**

Nothing ever seemed to go according to Hutch's plans. The days at Pine Lake were a disaster although he and Starsky were able to spend some time together after Hutch was released from the hospital. An _absolutely_ quiet time because Hutch had slept during most of it, accomplishing nothing he was looking forward to during their vacation. He’d wanted to try something new with Starsky, but it didn’t work out, just like it hadn’t when they were in San Francisco.

Having a couple of days off meant there was always a shit load of work piled up needing attention as soon as they got back. Hutch was on desk duty due to his injuries, and Starsky was temporarily partnered up with a newbie, Josh Classen.

Things had not been the same with them since the incident at Pine Lake. Hutch felt as if Starsky was keeping his distance. He hardly saw Starsky during the day.

Although Starsky spent every night with Hutch at his apartment, fussing over him, it wasn't enough. Mainly because Starsky had spent all those nights on the couch instead of in Hutch's bed. Hutch felt grumpy, angry and was not easy to live with, but he couldn’t help it.

Luckily, he had been given the greenlight to return to his normal work load starting Monday. He hoped he could get back to his somewhat cheerful mood on the weekend, and looked forward to spending the night with Starsky.

When Starsky finally dropped by at Venice Place with pizza and beer, it was close to eight p.m.

***

"Out with it. What's bugging you?" asked Starsky, stretching out on the sofa and helping himself to a beer. He’d finished the last slice of pizza.

"Nothing," said Hutch, cleaning up the dining table.

"You've been in this mood since we got back from Pine Lake."

"Oh, so you noticed," Hutch sneered.

"You mad at me or somethin'?"

"You tell me. You've hardly—" Hutch stopped.

"I've hardly, what?"

"Nothing," Hutch walked back to the kitchen and threw his empty beer bottle in the trash.

"What's going on?" Starsky followed Hutch up to the kitchen, and stood right behind him.

"You've been too busy baby-sitting that Josh—and then you come home and—and just sleep."

"Oh." Starsky scratched his head. "I see." A smile danced at the corners of his mouth. He walked towards Hutch, as Hutch walked backwards until he was barricaded at the kitchen counter.

"Nowhere else to go, huh?" said Starsky placing his arms on either side of Hutch, on the counter, and trapping him effectively. "Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me?" Starsky pressed his thighs against Hutch's, leaning against. "Do you know how many cold showers I had to take?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Can you feel how _hard_ I am?"

Hutch's breath stalled, feeling Starsky's desire branding him. Heat coursed through him as Starsky's hot breath against Hutch's face warmed every inch of his skin. The excitement pumping through his veins made him dizzy. God… he craved this man more every day.

"Then why haven't you--?"

"Because I couldn’t – not when I saw that dressing on your head."

"Oh." Hutch should've know. Of course! Starsky was avoiding unnecessary physical contact until he was sure Hutch had recovered totally. "But for three weeks?"

"I wasn't counting," said Starsky, his eyes dark and hooded with lust. "You talk too much."

Hutch was breathless as his lips clashed against Starsky's in a feverish hunt. He welcomed the full force of Starsky's lips, and his tongue ravaging Hutch's mouth. It had been too long. Hutch’s pent-up desire and frustration was at a breaking point, ready to be released.

Hutch needed the kiss. Couldn't live without that connection. His head was spinning and his heart raced as his body throbbed in an achy beat. He hooked his thumbs into Starsky's jean, wanting to feel Starsky's fully naked body against him.

"Not so fast." Starsky panted, stopping Hutch. "You ain't gonna do or see anythin'"

"Wha—what do you mean?" _Had he heard Starsky right?_

Starsky walked backwards into the bedroom, pulling Hutch with him. "Keep your eyes closed." He kissed Hutch's eyelids, his breath coming in deep gusts. "All you have to do is listen and feel. Got it?"

Hutch didn’t get it, but he nodded, closing his eyes. He moved his feet together with Starsky, sensing Starsky's eyes on him. "You're watching me," said Hutch. "I can feel you."

Raking his palm around Hutch's neck, Starsky stepped aside. "You have felt nothin' yet, Hutch." Starsky walked away.

Missing the warmth, Hutch felt cold and barren. "Come back," said Hutch. "What are you doing?"

"Now if I tell you everything, it wouldn't be a surprise. Would it?"

If there was one thing that Hutch knew for sure about his partner, it was that Starsky was full of surprises. He had never disappointed Hutch on anything. But this… this was something Starsky had not done before, and Hutch wanted to know what his partner had in store.

He listened to a scraping sound of a drawer being opened, rustling of clothes and a gliding of the drawer back to its place. Starsky came back and stood behind Hutch.

Hutch pictured Starsky's heavy lidded eyes and his seductive smile. He really wanted to open his eyes. He could come from the way Starsky looked at him. "I want to look at you. I want to see how you look at me," Hutch begged.

"I want you to feel me, first." Starsky pulled Hutch's head on to his shoulder.

Hutch arched backwards. "My heart won't take it."

Starsky enveloped Hutch in a warm embrace. "Your heart is with me, Hutch." He pressed his lips to the side of Hutch's forehead.

Starsky was the only person who could keep Hutch safe. His presence breathed hope into Hutch when everything else around him was in ruins and the last shard of sanity had started to crumble. Starsky always brought Hutch to life.

Hutch had no defenses against Starsky. None at all.

Starsky unbuttoned Hutch's shirt, his fingers roaming over Hutch's chest and arms. He rested his mouth against the base of Hutch’s neck, pulling Hutch’s shirt off his shoulders. "The unknown can be beautiful," Starsky whispered. "Just like the darkness. I'm gonna make you love it."

Starsky graced his fingertips ever so lightly over Hutch’s abdomen. Hutch gasped when Starsky delicately traced his ribs. "Just feel where I touch you," Starsky whispered, dipping his fingers into the waistband of Hutch's pants. He flipped open the first button, then the second, and pulled the zipper down. "Know what I'm doing, when you feel it." He pushed Hutch's pants down and Hutch kicked the trousers away.

"You're killing me," Hutch hissed when Starsky momentarily palmed his aching flesh. "I want to look at you. This isn’t fair."

The next minute, Hutch's skin prickled as a silky material was dragged upward along his arms. Starsky wrapped the end of the scarf around Hutch’s eyes.

"No peeping," said Starsky, pushing Hutch until his feet came in contact with the mattress. "Lay on your back," he said, helping Hutch on to the bed. "I know you got rid of those cuffs.” Starsky guided Hutch into position with pillows propped under his head and shoulders. "I mean… it's not like you really wanted to use them on me, anyway… right?"

Hutch didn’t want to ask how Starsky figured that out. Starsky may have crept inside Hutch's head and read every thought he had written there.

"And I don't need any cuffs to trap you, either." Starsky joined Hutch on the bed, straddling Hutch's hips with his thighs pressed against Hutch’s knees.

The mattress creaked as it dipped with Starsky's weight, and Hutch could hear the whisper of cloth on Starsky's skin when he removed his shirt. Starsky leaned forward, bracing his weight on his knees. He caught Hutch's arms and pinned them down beside his head. Starsky's leg muscles flexed through denim against Hutch's bare skin. Starsky lowered himself onto Hutch, claiming his mouth in a hungry kiss. The urgency of Starsky's kiss was a shot of lust right into Hutch's veins.

Starsky pulled Hutch's arms above his head, and wrapped another scarf around them, securing them together. Feeling Starsky's body heat so close to his face, Hutch surged up and latched onto Starsky's chest, sucking hard.

"Arrrgh," Starsky yelled in surprise. Letting go of one of Hutch's hands, he clutched Hutch's head as Hutch feasted on Starsky’s nipples. He was sure he’d had left a good mark there.

Starsky panted, leaning into him as Hutch nibbled, kissed, and licked every inch of Starsky he could get his mouth on.

"Well now…" Starsky sounded as if he was out of breath. "You'll never escape from me."

Hutch never wanted to be free of Starsky, either. He pulled at his hands, but realized that they were firmly secured, probably to the bed frame.

Starsky thrust the end of a rope into Hutch's palm and entwined it lightly around his fingers. "Feel this?" he asked. “I've tied you to the bed with this line. If you feel uncomfortable, all what you have to do is let it go and your arms will be free from the headboard."

Hutch nodded.

"Your wrists will still be tied together, though."

Starsky got off the bed. Hutch heard the unbuckling, unzipping and a moment later, the sound of the pants falling on the floor. This was a dream he’d thought would never come true-- to be claimed as Starsky's lover and share his bed with him every day. To be wanted and loved by Starsky this way. Starsky had healed his tortured soul and completed him.

"This's my kind of _bondage_. Think you can handle it?" Starsky asked, stretching out alongside Hutch's body. He skimmed his palm up along Hutch's inner thigh, under his boxers, feathering over his most sensitive parts.  

Hutch trembled with excitement. He wasn't going to last long at all.

He jerked and twisted when Starsky latched onto his hardened nipples, teasing them with his tongue and lips. All the while, Starsky skillfully fingered Hutch’s throbbing erection.

Moving to side, Starsky settled between Hutch's legs. He pulled the boxers down and tossed them away. Hutch was completely naked, vulnerable, and at Starsky's mercy.  

"You're beautiful," Starsky breathed. "And you're all mine." He lifted one of Hutch's legs and draped it over his shoulder. Pressing his lips to Hutch's toes, he kissed along the ankle up Hutch’s thigh. He lingered at the back of his knee, making Hutch gasp and twist in anticipation, before moving away and then doing the same to the other leg. Starsky avoided touching the hot core where Hutch was burning and quivering with want. It drove Hutch crazy.

Hutch curled his fingers around the ropes as though to hold onto the sanity that was abandoning him. Feeling Starsky warm against his thigh made every atom of Hutch's body yearn for more. His muscles tightened and he arched his back instinctively when Starsky dipped his tongue into his navel. Enough was enough. Hutch couldn’t handle anymore foreplay. He needed Starsky right now, right there, all to him. In him. Hutch wrapped his legs around Starsky's waist, hooking his ankles and pulling Starsky towards him.

"Can't wait, can you?" asked Starsky, cradling Hutch's face in his hands and drawing Hutch's mouth to his. His tongue slid into Hutch's mouth hungrily.

Hutch opened his lips widely, whimpering. He drew Starsky's tongue deeper into his mouth, sucking it. Starsky moaned with pleasure.

Starsky raised Hutch's upper body into his arms, fastening his mouth to Hutch's neck. He bit gently on his skin, flicking his tongue and drawing circles along the way. Starsky swirled his tongue, leaving a wet trail and blowing gently over the surface.

Hutch shuddered at the warm and cold sensations. He wanted to wrap his arms around Starsky and grind his body against Starsky's. Needed to feel the mixture of the silkiness of Starsky's skin and the coarseness of his hair. Hutch wasn't uncomfortable at all, but he had no self-control anymore. He let go off the rope and jerked at the restraints to free himself as Starsky had said, but he couldn't.

" _Goddammit_ , Starsky," he hissed realizing Starsky had lied. "I want to touch you."

"It's your dream," Starsky chuckled. "No waking up now." Starsky ran his fingers along Hutch's torso, all the way up to his hips. He traced a wet path on Hutch's chest, down onto his stomach, and to the base of his arousal.

" _Bastard_ ," Hutch threw his head back in and screamed with ecstasy.

Starsky gripped Hutch's thighs and spread them wider, nipping at his groin. He brushed his fingers teasingly along Hutch's length, pausing briefly to massage him lightly. His inner muscles contacted almost painfully. Unable to catch his breath, Hutch was ready to soar into the dark abyss, but Starsky held him back.

"Touch me," Hutch cried. He wanted Starsky's weight on top of him. He wanted to hold onto Starsky's solid fame while Starsky pulled him deeper into the fantasy he had been living in for all these years. Except… it wasn’t a fantasy anymore. This was real.

"Take me, now. Please," he begged.

"Not yet," Starsky said, wickedly. "I haven't even tasted you properly."

Hutch could sense when Starsky's breath quickened. Starsky lowered his head and filled his mouth with Hutch. He scraped his teeth lightly over Hutch's length, sucking.

" _Starsk!_ " Hutch cried hoarsely. "Please," he moaned, pulling at his restraints. His hips fell and rose with the steady rhythm of Starsky's motions. Hutch convulsed, feeling the throbbing sensation of Starsky's need pulsing against his leg, but Starsky didn’t seem to be in a hurry to abandon his mission.

Starsky kissed, licked, savored and explored Hutch's body, bringing Hutch close to a peak, but not allowing him to go beyond. He took his sweet time making Hutch squirm and beg for release.

"Had enough?" Starsky asked, moving off Hutch’s groin.

Hutch couldn't answer the question. If he had tried, it would be broken words that made no sense.

Starsky placed his hands under Hutch's buttocks and raised him. "Ready for this?" he asked, positioning himself between Hutch's legs. He guided his erection into Hutch, inch by inch.

The mixture of a sweet tightness and pure pleasure tore through Hutch as he received Starsky.

Starsky held himself still, breathing heavily, and trembling as he stayed buried in Hutch's body.

Hutch knew that Starsky was holding back until Hutch was completely undone. Starsky curled his hand around Hutch's shaft, stroking.

Hutch moved together with Starsky in rhythm as an explosion radiated from his middle and spread all over his body, up to his head and down to his toes. Hutch cried out as his warm seed spilled over Starsky's fingers and he shuddered with release. Starsky caught Hutch's screams in his mouth, kissing him and completing their lovemaking as he rocked Hutch in an undulating dance.

Wanting to take Starsky over the edge, Hutch lifted his hips, welcoming Starsky's thrusts and taking him completely. Before long, Starsky locked his legs around Hutch's hips and he went rigid.

Releasing a guttural sound and jerking a few times, Starsky fell onto Hutch.

The whole apartment was silent except for the sounds of their hearts thundering in their ears and the heavy breathing. Hutch slipped into a sleep just as Starsky removed his blindfold and released his arms from the restraints.

***

Hutch woke up in Starsky's arms.

No one else had ever possessed his mind and body like Starsky. The physical attraction, sexual chemistry and their love without boundaries was a force that would never allow anyone to come between them.

He watched as Starsky opened his eyes.

"Hey," said Starsky, pulling Hutch closer. "How are you feelin?" he mumbled sleepily.

Pushing Starsky onto his back, Hutch covered Starsky's body with his and kissed him.

"Mmmm…" Starsky smiled seductively. "That answers the question, I think."

"I love you," said Hutch. "I can't show you or say in words how much, Starsk, but what you did to me today--"

Starsky rumbled a low throaty growl. "If I knew all I had to do was tie you up and have my way with you, I would've done it a long time ago."

"Yeah?" Hutch kissed Starsky again. "It's a fact that you always know what I want. Even more than I know about what I want."

"Well, partner, I have done my homework for ten years now—"

"Ah, yes." Hutch smiled, tapping his forehead as if to remembering something. "You know how- where- when I eat- walk- sleep- talk. And you know who I know, what I know, and how I know it."

"Yup. And there ain't no hidin' behind that."

Hutch felt sorry for all the people out there who couldn’t find the perfect person, because there was only one such perfect guy out there.

Hutch had that man all to himself.

 

*** END ***


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